


When the Moon Hits Your Eye Like A Big Pizza Pie

by elwon



Series: 2018 prompt fics [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Pizza Night, Rooftop Shenanigans, THAT'S A FOOD FIGHT
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 06:09:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13757919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elwon/pseuds/elwon
Summary: “Back in my day we had to swing around Gotham in bare legs uphill both ways.” Dick says in the worst English accent Jason’s ever heard. He hopes Dick’s doing it deliberately. The thought of Alfred being that disappointed in Dick’s ability to mimic his accent makes Jason oddly sad.“It’s your own fault for forgetting to put on pants in the first place, N.” Jason says in his own Alfred Approved fake English accent. “One should at leastattemptto be fully dressed when one leaves the house.”





	When the Moon Hits Your Eye Like A Big Pizza Pie

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anoncitomikolino](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anoncitomikolino/gifts).



There’s something about watching Nightwing in action that makes Jason feel things. Awe at how easy he makes flipping through the air look; jealousy and resentment that he’ll never be that good; and a strange sense of pride at being included in what Dick calls his family. Although the last is tempered with the knowledge that Dick includes Bruce, Alfred, his team and all the people back in Haly’s circus family, so it doesn’t make Jason special, truth be told.

But that in no way means Jason’s not happy to be included. The chance to see the original Robin up close as he works is one he won’t turn down. The differing shades of blue are eye catching in a way that Jason’s own uniform isn’t, the bands of gold and that tall collar in particular. Dick, annoyingly, has that untouchable aura of being better at everything, but it gets easier when he realises that Dick actually trusts him to watch his back during fights. He tries not to snap too hard at Dick when he’s overprotective, which is a lot of the time. Dick’s got a tendency to cover Jason’s eyes when he thinks that whatever’s going down is something tender young eyes should not see. Jason keeps reminding him he saw worse before he even hit double digits, but Dick likes to ignore that. 

It’s one of the rare nights where three things happen: that Nightwing’s in Gotham; patrolling with Robin instead of Batman; and that it’s strangely quiet, even for winter. So Dick and Jason have ended up on one of the mid-height buildings along by Wayne Tower which has the nicest view of Robinson Park; just hanging out and shooting the breeze while they wait for one of their comms. to go off with an emergency. It’s been long enough that Dick had jumped down to street level about five minutes ago, promising to bring back pizza. 

Jason’s leaning against the hut of a rooftop generator, enjoying the warmth radiating from it when Dick returns, walking up the fire escape instead of grappling purely because of the large box of pizza and sharing size bottle Zesti Cola in his hands. Dick sits down next to Jason, putting the bottle of cola between them with a wink.

“We don’t need to tell Alfred about this, right? It can be our secret, Little Wing.” Dick grins, tugging off one of his gloves and flipping open the pizza box.

“You know, usually when that line gets said, I want to punch the asshole saying it? But just this once I’ll let it go.” Jason says magnanimously, picking up the bottle and holding it away from himself as he unscrews the lid, waiting for the hiss of gas before removing the lid completely. 

“Well, since you’re being so generous tonight, I suppose I should do the same and not comment on your bright yellow tights, then?” Dick waggles his eyebrows under his mask, shoving nearly a whole slice of pizza into his mouth.

“Didn’t you design this entire outfit with its ...colours? I don’t think you get to make comments about me trying to keep warm in it.” Jason sniffs mock-loftily, trying to hold back the grin spreading across his face. Dick snorts at that, forgetting he had a mouthful of pizza and barely managing to avoid choking. His spluttering is amusing and Jason watches with amusement as Dick tries to get himself under control.

“Gimme that bottle!” Dick coughs, and Jason hands it over wordlessly, picking up his own slice and chewing at its cheesy goodness while Dick chugs down Zesti Cola like a true Gothamite, before pounding on his chest three times.

“You’da thought all those years with Agent A woulda taught you to chew, Goldie.” Jason says, picking up his second slice and devouring it in four quick bites. Dick throws him a look, but settles back against the generator hut and gingerly picks up his own second slice.

“Back in my day we had to swing around Gotham in bare legs uphill both ways.” Dick says in the worst English accent Jason’s ever heard. He hopes Dick’s doing it deliberately. The thought of Alfred being that disappointed in Dick’s ability to mimic his accent makes Jason oddly sad.

“It’s your own fault for forgetting to put on pants in the first place, N.” Jason says in his own Alfred Approved fake English accent. “One should at least _attempt_ to be fully dressed when one leaves the house.”

“Hey, I grew up in a circus, there was practically a no pants rule there!” Dick exclaims, grin wide on his face, and Jason’s pretty sure that if he could see Dick’s eyes, they’d be sparkling with amusement. “Also, nice job on the accent, Little Wing. Making Agent A proud, I can tell.”

“Uh, thanks.” Jason tries not to preen at the praise, but from the softening smile on Dick’s face, he guesses he didn’t hide it well enough. Jason grabs another slice of pizza to cover up his embarrassment and to save him from having to say anything more. Dick knocks their shoulders together and Jason leans back hard until Dick starts tilting to the side. When Dick chuckles, Jason leaves off, staring up at the skies and the clouds and constellations mostly hidden by light pollution.

“Oh hey, speaking of the Circus, Haly’s is in town next month, you want to come with me? I’d like to introduce you to Zitka.” Dick says, breaking the easy silence that had fallen between them.

“Sure, I guess. As long as B doesn’t want me to, I don’t know, join the Junior Hall of Commerce or something.” Jason shrugs, he’s never actually been to the circus before, so why not. “Wait, I thought Zitka was your toy elephant? Did you name it after an _actual_ person?”

“Oh Little Wing, I’m not gonna tell you that, it’ll ruin the surprise! But Zitka was my baby sitter when I was young.” Dick smirks, and Jason almost wants to interrogate the truth out of him, but on the other hand, the look of excitement on Dick’s face almost makes the mystery worth it.

“Fine. But if you’re having a surprise then so am I.” Jason says, turning to look at Dick. 

“Sounds fair.” Dick nods, having no idea what he’s in for.

“Awesome.” Jason grins, grabbing the box of pizza, standing up to pull a slice out and throw it at Dick. “FOOD FIGHT!” The look on Dick’s face as the slice hits him full on his unprotected chest is glorious.

“Oh that’s it! You’re going to get it now...” Dick grins, leaping to his feet and advancing on Jason. “I never lose a food fight.”

***

The look of displeasure and the eyeroll they both receive from Bruce and Alfred respectively when they arrive back in the cave that morning, with pizza sauce smeared across their faces and clothes and shredded cheese and pizza dough in their hair is _totally_ worth it in Jason’s opinion.

***

It’s another slow night on patrol. Which is probably the only reason Bruce has let Jason go off by himself. He’s perched up on the roof of an apartment building not too far from his favourite diner, the one with the waitress that always snuck him a portion of onion rings whenever he used to go in and order the two cheapest items on the menu with the money that he’d scrounged up from various places. He remembers spending hours walking around Gotham picking up lost and forgotten coins, just to get a chilli dog and a glass of milk.

It’s late, and Jason’s hungry, but he’s not sure going into a diner in full uniform is a good idea, but it’s not like he’s got anything to change into. There’s a soft thud behind him, and Jason twists on the spot, batarang between his fingers and ready to be thrown when he sees the familiar shades of blue that make up Nightwing’s costume.

“Hey Little Wing. I saw you perched all alone and thought I’d say hi.” Dick says as he walks over, dropping down to sit on the edge of the roof next to Jason.

“Hi.” Jason says dryly, relaxing and slipping the batarang away into his belt. 

“This is nice spot. But, man, the smell of fries is getting to me. You feeling peckish, Robin?” Dick looks down the street at the diner, clearly thinking of going there.

“I can always eat.” Jason looks at Dick, wondering if he’s really about to suggest they go to the diner. 

“Awesome, let’s go, that place does the _best_ milkshakes in the city!” Dick knocks at Jason’s shoulder as he stands up, flipping off the edge of the building without looking like the lunatic he is. Jason huffs a sigh, leaning forward over the edge to make sure that Dick’s managed to get to the ground safely, which of course he has. Jason walks over to the fire escape and jogs quickly down like a slightly saner person would.

By the time he catches up to Dick, he’s already at the diner. Jason walks up feeling a little nervous, but Dick just smiles at him before shoving the door open and striding in casually. Jason follows him a bit hesitantly, looking around the place like he thinks he’s going to get thrown out any moment. The decor hasn’t changed, with its black and white tiled floor and faded 50’s retro theme, the still cracked and peeling pleather booths looking as inviting as ever. Dick slides into a booth and picks up a menu with a smile at the tired waitress behind the counter. Jason slides in opposite him, flicking his gaze over the other menu perfunctorily. He already knows he’s going to get a fully loaded chilli dog and fries.

The waitress comes over and takes their order with a blank look on her face, before bustling off to get their drinks. Dick shifts in his seat and his uniform squeaks against the pleather with a loud parp! Jason has to bite his lip to not laugh. The look of surprise on Dick’s face is just making it funnier.

“That... that was my uniform!” Dick blurts out, and Jason gives him a well practiced bland look that Alfred’s been helping him with. Dick panics a little more. “No really, Robin. I did not fart.” 

“If you say so, Nightwing.” Jason says, keeping the amusement out of his voice. “But really, you should apologise to the management for your flatulence. So rude!”

“It’s the _seat_! It’s sticking to my pants. I swear.” Dick looks so earnest and embarrassed that Jason can’t help but laugh.

“I know man, but the look on your face!” Jason says, choking out the words in between his chuckles. In a strange way, it’s made Jason feel better about Dick. The guy may be an excellent fighter, stupidly handsome, with lots of friends and an alien princess for a girlfriend, but he’s also a dork that likes terrible puns, has questionable taste in clothes, and can’t seem to eat a meal without getting something smeared across his face. And he farts just like the rest of the world. Dick stops being an unattainable standard to overcome and instead becomes a real friend in the space of sixty seconds. 

Dick pouts for a few moments until Jason’s infectious laughter catches him two and he snorts. “Why do I have the feeling that this is going to be brought up time and time again?” Dick asks the ceiling, staring up at it as if it’ll answer. Then again, this is Gotham, stranger things have happened that talking ceilings.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you’re smarter than you look, N?” Jason grins and gets a handful of napkins thrown in his face. Jason’s about to grab his own handful and start an all out napkin war across the table when the waitress returns with their milkshakes. She sets Jason’s strawberry and Dick’s chocolate milkshake down on the table with a warning thump that instantly makes them both contrite, and once she’s walked away they share a conspiratorial grin.

“Just so you know, I am totally going to get you for that comment later. _After_ we eat, so prepare yourself.” Dick says with the air of someone not used to losing. Jason’s learnt some tricks since they last sparred and isn’t above fighting dirty.

“You keep telling yourself that, dude. I’ll beat you when you’re all lazy and full. You’ll see.” Jason grins wolfishly, looking forward to later.


End file.
